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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/28464945">space tripping (in spaaaaaace!)</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessoftheworlds/pseuds/princessoftheworlds'>princessoftheworlds</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>fool me once, fool me twice [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Torchwood</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>F/M, Fluff and Crack, Found Family, Immortal Ianto Jones, Light Angst, M/M, Male-Female Friendship, Post-Canon Fix-It, Recreational Drug Use, slight existential crisis</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-01-02</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-11 00:22:03</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,115</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/28464945</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/princessoftheworlds/pseuds/princessoftheworlds</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Gwen and Ianto road trip across space - space trip, get high, shop, have a light existential crisis, face grief, and get massages - not all necessarily in that order.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Gwen Cooper &amp; Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper &amp; Jack Harkness &amp; Ianto Jones, Gwen Cooper/Rhys Williams, Ianto Jones/Original Character(s), Jack Harkness/Ianto Jones</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>fool me once, fool me twice [10]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1819213</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>8</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>24</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>space tripping (in spaaaaaace!)</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/violetmessages/gifts">violetmessages</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Happy birthday, Vi! Despite all expectations, I actually did it. I managed to write you your birthday fic. I hope it's everything you wanted and better asdjaskdjsdkjsak. Thank you for making 2020 just a tad bit more tolerable for me and being the desi Torchwood buddy I didn't know I needed. Writing Golden Age was a fucking trip, but I certainly couldn't do it with anyone better. I love you!</p><p>Beta'd by Bel with additional support from CJ and Remi. Thanks to everyone, especially Vi for pitching this fic to me as Gwen and Ianto go To White Castle - but in space! I hope you enjoy!</p><p>Also, this marks the tenth part of fool me once, fool me twice and the first spinoff of 2021. Thank you for coming along with me for the last year, and I hope you stick around for the next one!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <b>6756</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Vesper</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Ianto</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Are you sure you need to leave me?” Jack wheedles as Ianto tries frantically to wrestle himself free from his husband’s octopus-like grasp. “Can’t you just stay a few more hours with me?” When Ianto glares at him: “A few minutes?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let me go, Jack,” Ianto huffs, shoving Jack’s leg off his only for his arm around Ianto’s waist to tighten. “I have to leave within the hour. I promised Gwen, and if we want to make it to Gethea Luxury Spa in time for our appointment tomorrow, we need to leave on time.” A beat. “Jack, let me go!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Nope,” replies Jack happily, only snuggling closer. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ianto sighs, slumping back against Jack. For an immortal man over eight thousand years old, his husband can be incredibly, </span>
  <em>
    <span>incredibly</span>
  </em>
  <span> childish at times. (Though it may also be that Jack recently returned from a several-month-long mission dealing with a planetary civil war for Torchwood, which may be why he’s so clingy and touch starved. But he’s also the one who elected to give Ianto and Gwen a whole week travelling several galaxies together to celebrate their upcoming birthdays while he stayed behind to do more work for Torchwood.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re the one who made our appointments at the spa,” Ianto reminds him half-heartedly. “It’s your money we’d be wasting.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But Jack only shrugs. “It’s just a spa,” he says. “They won’t mind if you get there late. You’re supposed to be </span>
  <em>
    <span>relaxed, </span>
  </em>
  <span>anyways.” He waggles his eyebrows.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It literally said ‘be on time’ on the holographic invite.” Ianto sighs again. “Besides, they’re a luxury spa, not a pleasure spa. I’m not sure Gwen would like to go to a pleasure spa with me, no matter how strong our friendship.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s what you think,” Jack says, his legs tangling with Ianto’s. Ianto reaches his hand to grasp Jack’s, both men luxuriating against the synthetic silk sheets wrapped around their bare bodies. “Judging by the offers you received last week, I’d say far more people would like to accompany you to a pleasure spa than you think.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack, Ianto, and Gwen have lived on Vesper, a hot desert planet where the suns shine scarlet in the morning and the moon golden, for a little over a hundred years, where the local indigenous species - a humanoid lizard hybrid - simply assume that humans have long lifespans. (Ianto reckons they could perhaps last another fifty years here.) They live on a sandy hill close to the largest town, which they don’t visit too often. Thus their appearances at events like the Vesperian water festival celebrations garner a lot of curious, appreciative gazes and offers for coupling. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not as many as you did,” Ianto tells Jack, rolling his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Jack’s grin widens. “Vesperians have strong noses. They must have really liked my pheromones.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“They’re not the only one,” Ianto drawls, inching closer against the sheets to kiss Jack thoroughly. Despite his insistence on the time, he gets a little lost in the heat of his husband’s lips against his, in the pleasure of Jack’s arms wrapping around him and his fingers tangling in his hair. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They roll over, Ianto sprawling over his husband as they snog lazily. Hands are shoved downwards, reaching to grasp more sensitive body parts, but before any actual contact can be made, the door to their bedroom screeches open.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bloody hell!” Gwen cries, shielding her eyes with her hand and dropping her head towards the floor. “Put some clothes on, won’t you?” She tosses Ianto a pair of his trousers that he’d abandoned on the bedroom floor last night.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“It’s nothing that you haven’t seen before, Gwen,” Jack drawls.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That doesn’t mean I </span>
  <em>
    <span>want </span>
  </em>
  <span>to see you both shagging,” protests Gwen. She whips another pair of trousers - this one Jack’s - at their faces. “Now, get out. Get dressed, Jones. We’re getting late.” She glances at them, still tangled together on the bed, and grimaces before turning back to leave. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Just a moment, Gwen,” Ianto calls after her and finally manages to push himself free of Jack’s grasp, kissing his husband’s pout away. “I have to go now or Gwen will get mad.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“We wouldn’t want that.” Grinning, Jack reaches up to gently tweak Ianto’s button nose. Then he reaches to shove Ianto from the bed, swatting his arse. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Twenty minutes later finds Gwen and Ianto aboard </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Myfanwy </span>
  </em>
  <span>as the spaceship slowly drifts off from the Vesper port, veering towards the stars. (They could totally just teleport everywhere, but Gwen had insisted on taking the long way.) Ianto fiddles with the controls as Gwen settles back against her seat, gazing into the silky darkness of space. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Have a good morning, did you?” Gwen teases.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not before you interrupted.” But Ianto’s grumble is light and distracted as he studies the map of their route. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tossing her hair over her shoulder, Gwen laughs quietly. “Are you ready for a week of relaxation, Ianto Jones?” A beat. “We’re road tripping!”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Space tripping,” Ianto offers, grinning.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Space tripping,” repeats Gwen. “Across spaaaaaace!”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>6756</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Gethea Luxury Spa</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Ianto </b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gethea Luxury Spa is sprawled across three small planets, linked by intricate space bridges. The first planet, containing the main facilities of the spa, is a luscious verdant rain forest with a lazy yolk-yellow sun that hangs low in the sky. Standing in the reception of the main spa building, Gwen by his side, Ianto can hear the faint babbling of a river nearby, likely near one of the many exciting hiking trails the spa boasts.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Look, Ianto,” Gwen says excitedly as she pulls an electronic brochure from one of the holders on the reception desk. The brochure is a thin and flexible screen that Gwen unfolds to read; every few minutes, it flashes brightly with another feature of the spa. “This planet is Lunaria, named for its resemblance to the galaxy’s moons. The middle planet, Andromache, is mostly calm waters and beaches. The third planet Petrolina is composed of rolling green hills and meadows.” She points out vivid pictures that pixelate and dissolve a moment later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You’re having far too much fun with this,” Ianto notes, his lips tugging into a slight smile. He cranes his neck, searching for a receptionist or AI assistant to check them in.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She nudges him, huffing amusedly. “I haven’t gone to a spa in what feels like decades.” Her brow furrows. “Well, it probably </span>
  <em>
    <span>has been.</span>
  </em>
  <span>”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They finally get checked in when Ianto flags down an alien receptionist and receive keys to their cottage on Andromache - Ianto has a feeling that Jack had Boeshane on the brain when he made the bookings. It’s a small, airy place with many windows to let in bright sunlight. Gwen and Ianto’s bedrooms are rather spacious, and there’s a working fireplace, though they’re only staying for two days and aren’t likely to use it.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Our first appointment is for Gethean massages,” Ianto calls to Gwen as he quickly unpacks his clothes into the drawers built into a wall. “In about an hour. Afterwards, we can go exploring the beaches.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Their masseuses are a pair of Getheans, short silver humanoids indigenous to the trio of planets. Tas and Charl, their names are, and they are waiting when Gwen and Ianto return to Lunaria for their appointment. Under Tas’s dexterous fingers and strength, Ianto finds himself boneless and loose, over three decades of stress kneaded from his back, and considers leaving Jack for Tas.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gwen chortles when Ianto relays this to her. “Jack wouldn’t be pleased to hear that,” she teases, then hisses as Charl presses their thumbs into her right shoulder. “Apparently, even holographic AIs get stress.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Who knew that hard light projector would come in so handy?” Ianto murmurs to himself, and Gwen flashes him an amused smile.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Tas and Charl leave them resting on their backs with warmed towels draped over their faces, and Ianto is content to just lie there and rest, even if he drifts off slightly to the background music that sounds like the lapping of calm water. He awakens feeling refreshed and surprisingly energetic, outpacing Gwen when they take a wandering stroll along the beach before their next appointment.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ianto digs his bare toes into the soft sand, watching Gwen head towards the water. She kneels down and slowly dips her fingers into the shallow waves.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“What does it feel like?” Ianto asks curiously when he joins her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gwen glances up at him, eyes bright and wide and observant. “Cold,” she says. “Almost silky.” She shrugs. “It feels like water, but I also remember what water felt like, when I was still human. It feels like water, but it also doesn’t.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Do you regret it?” asks Ianto. “This form? Being essentially a hologram.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“That’s a very heavy existential question to be asking at a spa, Ianto Jones,” she tells him in faux-seriousness, but Ianto notes, as they turn from the beach and return to Lunaria, that she doesn’t really answer his question.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You have </span>
  <em>
    <span>such great skin,</span>
  </em>
  <span>” raves the Gethean performing Ianto’s facial. “So youthful, so soft for a human. What’s your secret?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <em>
    <span>Immortality, </span>
  </em>
  <span>thinks Ianto but lamely tells her, “I moisturise.” He glares at Gwen when she snickers.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Considering that she’s a hologram, she can’t get a haircut or really any of the services they perform at the salon on Lunaria, but Ianto gets a trim and a nice shave.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Your hair is quite fluffy,” Gwen informs Ianto as they return to their cottage. “Jack would like it.” A beat. “Shame about the scruff, though. It was the only feature keeping you from looking like you were fresh out of uni.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Shove it,” Ianto retorts. “Jack doesn’t like it.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I can’t blame him,” she says. “From what I remember, beard burn is hell between the thighs.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ianto blushes a bright embarrassed pink, and Gwen laughs her arse off. Even roughly four thousand years later, and Gwen is the only one who can make him feel like a teenage boy about his relationship with Jack. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Let’s build a bonfire out on the beach tonight,” he suggests and is grateful when she, giggling only slightly now, allows him to divert the conversation.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>6756</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Andrula Galaxy</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Ianto</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They leave the spa bright and early, watching the three planets disappear into the distance while munching on biscuits Gwen nicked from the cottage. Well, Ianto is munching on biscuits. Gwen is busy taking in the stars. Their next destination is roughly a day’s flight away, so they are stuck on </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Myfanwy </span>
  </em>
  <span>for several hours.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s a large ship, meant to house at least six comfortably, so they have enough space to roam, but neither are really keen on exploring the streaming entertainment options aboard, not unless they truly become desperate and bored.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You know, this really seemed like a good idea when we planned the trip,” Gwen says several hours in, “but almost a full day’s travel is truly the worst way to waste a day of this trip.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ianto shrugs. “Well, we can’t necessarily turn back now.” His right eyebrow is twitching slightly, which Gwen recognizes as an indication that he’s holding something back from her. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ianto…” she begins and watches him sigh, his shoulders slumping.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turns to her. “I thought I’d wait until we hit a certain leg of this journey, but I did have a surprise planned for today.” When, with brow furrowed, she gestures for him to go on, but he instead pulls out a small opaque box full of two feathery-looking lavender plants. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ianto Jones,” Gwen gasps and whacks him on the back of the head, Ianto hissing. “You’ve had drugs on you the entire time and you made me stare at space for two hours?” She whacks him again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Stop doing that,” Ianto says with a near whine to his voice as he rubs the back of his head. “And yes. It’s ke’tet. I picked some up from someone I know who grows them on Vesper.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ke’tet, a plant native to Vesper and some of its neighboring planets, produces sweet berries mainly used for stews and desserts in traditional recipes; Jack enjoys cooking with ke’tet berries, not that Gwen can taste any of it. Its leaves, however, cause a calming high when ingested that they discovered is similar to marijuana. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Wait.” Gwen’s eyes narrow as she focuses on the box again. “There’s only enough for one portion </span>
  <em>
    <span>for one person.</span>
  </em>
  <span>” She frowns. “Plus, have you missed the bit where I’m a bloody hologram and can’t actually ingest substances?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He rolls his eyes. “I made accommodations for that too.” He taps his vortex manipulator. “Called in a Torchwood favor and had R&amp;D design a virus specifically for you.” As she eyes him speculatively: “It’s not harmful, but it’ll scramble your code enough for a few hours to produce a similar effect, a high, like ke’tet does.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She gapes at him, blinking back tears she knows are artificial - just like the synapses firing in her brain, everything about her is artificial, is just code. “You didn’t have to…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Don’t mention it, Gwen,” he says, blushing, his expression sheepish. “Please don’t. I know this life you now lead isn’t exactly ideal, and I wanted to give you a normal, </span>
  <em>
    <span>human </span>
  </em>
  <span>experience for once.” He shrugs. “After all, humans are very geared towards sex, drink, and drugs.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“How very John Hart of you,” she notes, and they both shudder at the comparison. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They settle into comfortable seats in the viewing gallery, the entirety of the galaxy spread before them, and Ianto fiddles with a few buttons on his vortex manipulator, downloading the virus onto the Torchwood system that hosts Gwen’s code before he fumbles for the box and places a leaf in his mouth. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Almost immediately once Ianto’s downloaded the virus, Gwen gets a slight head rush, as one would after eating sugar. The second leaf is consumed by Ianto quickly, and then Ianto shoves the box into a pocket of his coat. He and Gwen lie back and wait for the psychoactive to take effect.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s when the stars glow with a bit more kaleidoscope light than they usually would that Gwen knows the virus has begun to scramble her code. Her body is floating, though her head feels like it’s been stuffed with cotton wool. She tilts herself back against the chair to gaze more comfortably at the rainbow-colored stars and nearly wobbles off.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Whoops,” Ianto says, sounding bewildered as he watches Gwen with wide eyes. His accent is slurring, that or Gwen’s ears have gone buzzy. She can’t tell.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You really got the good drugs,” Gwen says, vaguely aware of just how inaccurate that statement is. A virus giving her a high? It no longer makes sense to her. Her being entirely code? She outright rejects that.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ianto giggles quietly, and Gwen glances over at him, nearly falling off her chair again. He looks so </span>
  <em>
    <span>soft, </span>
  </em>
  <span>his hair all fresh and fuzzy like a baby duckling. She wants to pet it, but she doesn’t want to fall off her chair again.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Once,” she says. “Once when I was in uni, Rhys found us weed from somewhere, from Banana Boat, I think, and we got high and watched the stars.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I once drank Benadryl in coffee,” Ianto muses, his tone incredibly serious. “I didn’t like it.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gwen, for some reason, finds this incredibly hilarious. She reaches out, not falling this time, and links her hand with Ianto’s. “I love you, Ianto Jones.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I love you too, Gwen. You’re my best friend.” He gazes back out at the stars, and Gwen doesn’t understand how. Is the world not spinny for him too? He squeezes her hand in his. “My sister basically.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You asked me on the beach,” she says. “If I liked this life. And.” She pauses. “I don’t. Not all the time. Even if I do love it sometimes.” The stars glow before her, and one winks at her. “But you and Jack make it bearable.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>6756</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Marskan Shopping Center</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Gwen</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>When Ianto had listed the Marskan Shopping Center on the planning itinerary for their trip, Gwen had been bewildered. Neither of them are particularly keen shoppers, even if Gwen had enjoyed the odd sale or bargain - though it was mostly more Rhys’s forte - as a human and Ianto had spent far too much of his Torchwood salary on well-tailored suits. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>But when she’d voiced this confusion, both Ianto and Jack had only smiled amusedly. Jack had said, “You’ll understand when you get there.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Now Gwen feels like she does understand. It’s like she’s entered another world, one bright and noisy and colorful with merchant stalls lining the twisted, tangled streets of the more historic part of Marska and with commercialistic shops jammed right next to each other, their signboards flashing with price gouges and bargains Rhys wouldn’t even believe.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(Christ, she misses that man with every artificial beat of her heart.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Children of all species play and scream and run amok through the streets, their parents laden with multiple bags or examining glass displays of products or sipping fizzy drinks at varying food stalls. Lone shoppers duck through and from the chaos wearing satisfied smiles, and no one who enters a store or approaches a stall leaves without a bag of purchases. It’s overwhelming and dizzying and reminds her of Cardiff.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gwen smiles.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Jack loves places like these,” Ianto says as he joins Gwen by her side, both of them standing on a balcony of the space port where </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Myfanwy </span>
  </em>
  <span>is docked and overlooking the shopping center. He affects a fairly accurate parody of Jack’s accent that time has allowed him to refine. “</span>
  <em>
    <span>Places that showcase the true ingenuity and diversity of space, </span>
  </em>
  <span>he calls them.” He smiles fondly. “I just think he can’t resist a good deal. It’s the faux-American in him.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She chuckles briefly in response. “So this entire planet is essentially the shopping center?” A beat. “How does that even work? Culturally or economically?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ianto nods. “This planet at least. Most of the planets in this galaxy are devoted to commercialism in some form or another. There was the spa we visited. Popan III is entirely a hotel, and another plant is actually a pleasure spa. As for how it works?” He shrugs. “Shopping seems to defy culture. Society has always had a need of the trade or barter system. This is simply an extension of this.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“You don’t actually know,” she surmises.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Not a clue,” says Ianto with a slight smile, almost reminiscent of Jack. She supposes, after several thousand years of marriage, some of Jack’s mannerisms have rubbed off on Ianto. (</span>
  <em>
    <span>That’s not all Jack’s rubbed off on Ianto, </span>
  </em>
  <span>she thinks with a giggle she manages to muffle.) He offers her an arm. “Shall we descend into the chaos?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They head towards the stalls first. Ianto manages to neatly sidestep the racing children while Gwen smiles at them and says hello and, with a pang of grief, thinks of Anwen and Evan. The first few stalls are selling small trinkets like keychains that flash different colors or images and cheap holographic scrolls that chatter to Gwen about the shopping center.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Would you like one?” the alien merchant asks Gwen eagerly, leaning forward, and Gwen smiles politely and shakes her head.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She catches up with Ianto as he examines a stall boasting artisanally-crafted chocolates. There’s already a bag - made of synthetic plastic that disintegrates easily unlike the real thing - full of exotic coffee beans slung around the crook of his elbow. Her brow furrows, wondering how Ianto managed to make a purchase in the five minutes she was distracted. But it’s Ianto with his mysterious ways. He’s capable of sneakily doing so much more.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For Jack?” she asks, pointing to the chocolates.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“For Jack,” he confirms, rolling his eyes.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gwen picks up a few pretty silver trinkets - bracelets and necklaces of synthetic strands woven together in varying intricate patterns - for far less than she would have expected, figuring that she’ll just distribute them among some local Vesperian children. Or leave them lying about and forget about them until she stumbles across one several years later.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It’s very </span>
  <em>
    <span>human </span>
  </em>
  <span>of her.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>By the time they approach the shops, Ianto has accumulated a small number of bags while Gwen has tucked her prizes into the pockets of the leather jacket-like coat she wears. Ianto’s eyes widen when they land on a shopfront with the holographic signboard </span>
  <em>
    <span>Vern Tailors &amp; Family. </span>
  </em>
  <span>Briefly, childish excitement flashes across his face before he manages to school his expression.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gently grabbing ahold of Ianto’s elbow, Gwen steers him towards the tailor’s. “Let’s get you some new suits,” she says.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Inside, Ianto truly comes alive in a way he hasn’t in a while. Practicality may have forced Ianto out of his beloved twenty-first century suits, but he still runs his hands over exquisite fabrics and sighs over various color palettes. He’s so </span>
  <em>
    <span>Ianto Jones </span>
  </em>
  <span>that Gwen doesn’t even have the heart to nag him in a friendly manner as she might have otherwise.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ianto ends their trip at Marskan Shopping Center with several well-tailored jackets and shirts, wonderfully human. Gwen leaves with several small trinkets and a growing existential crisis.</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p><br/>
<br/>
</p><p>
  <b>6756</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Leev</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Ianto</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Leev, this small human colony planet rife with forestry, rivers, and sprawling meadows that was once clustered with small villages, this world where Ianto once found love and married and raised a son and where generations of the Jones family lived, is now unrecognizable.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ianto stands in the town square, now the marketplace for a bustling metropolis, and feels the heavy weight of sorrow on his shoulders. There is no more of the rustic charm that had originally attracted him here; it could be any generic overpopulated planet now.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>(He knows that’s just his bitterness leaking through, but he’s also much more devastated than he thought he’d be when they planned this.)</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>It wasn’t on the original itinerary. It wasn’t even Ianto’s idea. Several weeks ago, reassessing their travel plans, Jack had noticed that an entire day had been left empty and unscheduled. And for some reason, he’d suggested Leev.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Personally, Ianto always thinks that Jack feels a tiny bit of resentment that instead of finding Jack, Ianto found Ariadne, which is entirely unreasonable for him to think considering the amount of people they’ve both loved and married prior to each other - and in the few decades they’ve been apart since.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“This was a horrible idea,” Ianto admits to Gwen. “I didn’t…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gwen takes him by the shoulders and turns him towards her, lips pressing into a soft frown. “Oh, Ianto.” Her eyes are wide and understanding, and Ianto realizes just how much he loves Gwen Cooper, a woman he’d once let into the Hub carrying pizzas and thought he’d never see her again. “Sweetheart, if you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to, but you loved this planet once, and likely still do. I think you deserve some closure.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She releases him and links their hands together, leaving Ianto wondering how much more closure is necessary. Still, he follows her through the marketplace, noting how more faces are more alien than human now, though there is still indication of human ancestry in many roaming the streets. His gaze travels over a spot in the last few remaining patches of cobblestones where he swears once rested a plaque memorizing Rhia Jones-Collins.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Somehow, they arrive on the other end of the marketplace and continue going. Ianto gets the dizzying sense of deja vu, that thought that if he attempted to identify the stall Ariadne had sold flowers at, where Ianto had once bumped into Jack and not known it, he’d be unable to. Ianto takes the lead, pulling Gwen forward.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The forest near where Ianto’s home with Ariadne once was - now a three-story building of flats - has been preserved as a nature reserve. Ianto’s perception filter is handy to allow them to sneak in, and they settle down in a muddy clearing next to a brook that has now run dry. One particularly depressing birthday, Ianto had drunk plum liquor here and mourned his dead wife and son.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ariadne loved this forest,” Ianto tells Gwen, wishing he had that bottle of plum liquor now. “Her parents were farmers, and they lived in a little village on the other side of this forest. She used to tell me how she grew up picking flowers in a neighboring meadow and would bring them to her mother. She snuck in here early mornings to watch the animals and pick Leevan vegetables.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perfect match for you, the city boy,” Gwen teases.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ianto chuckles. “She tried to bring me here early mornings and almost always succeeded. We came here after our wedding. She wanted to celebrate our birthdays here after Huw was born. She always thought this was the most magical spot.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>The trees have thinned and are more gnarled, but sunlight still streams through, dappling the verdant ground and illuminating the twisted tangle of tree roots beneath their feet. It still has a bit of that same ethereal quality Ianto had always felt here with Ariadne, though he doesn’t know if that was the beauty of nature or </span>
  <em>
    <span>her.</span>
  </em>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“And Huw?” Gwen prompts softly. “What was he like when he was born?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Quiet, as quiet as a mouse,” Ianto says, chuckling slightly. He remembers the way when he’d first cradled baby Huw that the world had seemed to still until Huw had blinked open sleepy eyes and grasped curiously at his finger. “He was content to just sleep. A total contrast from how rambunctious he began.” A beat. “None of my children were as quiet as he was.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Huw, Rhosyn, Franklin, Gwyneth, Marta, Wynne, and the others. It hurts to think of any of his children. He has not yet dared to broach the question of more with Jack, despite the hundreds of years since the death of their last. Jack always takes it hard.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Anwen was like that too,” Gwen says suddenly, and Ianto glances over at her. Her expression is fierce. “The doctor placed her in my arms, and I thought she was the most beautiful baby I’d ever seen.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Every parent thinks that,” Ianto replies, slightly bewildered. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She shakes her head, sniffling slightly but still managing to snort amusedly. “I didn’t think that about Evan. He was the wrinkliest baby I’d ever seen, but Christ did I adore him.” A beat. “Not as much as Rhys did, though. I would have killed for Anwen and Evan. Rhys would have hung the sun, moon, and stars for them if they asked. He would have defied the universe.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Rhys was amazing,” says Ianto, and Gwen settles her head against his shoulder.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Yes. Yes, he was.”</span>
</p><p> </p>
<hr/><p> </p><p>
  <b>6756</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Milvia</b>
</p><p>
  <b>Gwen</b>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>They are sitting on a clifftop gazing out at a spectacularly bright sunset when Gwen blurts out, “I want to bring Rhys back.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Pardon?” Ianto says politely, though Gwen gets the feeling he heard her clearly.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She forces herself to swallow the everpresent lump in her throat, a familiar companion since this trip began. “I want to bring Rhys back just like you and Jack did for me.” After a strained beat of silence during which Ianto doesn’t respond: “Of course, it won’t be exactly like how you brought me back considering I was a Torchwood employee with a lot of data for my code and AI to be based on, but Rhys became much more involved with Torchwood after you died, and there might be a sizeable enough database.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ianto studies her, and for once, she can’t actually read the expression in her best friend’s eyes. She tears her own gaze away to stare back out over the horizon, shuddering. She can feel the familiar burn of tears at her eyes, but she’s too resigned now to be bitter about this response produced by her programming.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Several </span>
  <em>
    <span>long </span>
  </em>
  <span>minutes go by with no response from Ianto. Gwen had always been an impatient child, though school and becoming a mother had made her more reasonable and patient, but she can still feel that familiar frantic twitch in her leg. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Bloody hell, Ianto,” she finally barks. “Say something, won’t you?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Okay,” he says simply. </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“</span>
  <em>
    <span>Just okay?</span>
  </em>
  <span>” she snaps, and he looks vaguely insulted, eyebrows gathering together. She very much hates those enigmatic things right now. “This is my fucking husband we’re talking about, not picking up juice or Untitled’s dog food from Tesco.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Gwen,” Ianto says, attempting to placate her. “We’ll bring Rhys back if that’s what you want.” A beat. “You’re sure that is what you want, right?”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ianto…”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>He turns to her, entirely serious now. “Gwen, look. As grateful as I am that you’re here with me and Jack in the future, I also hate it.” His eyes are almost haunted. “Jack and I are both stuck. You are too. We figured we could at least bring you back to us. But what kind of existence is it we lead? Us immortal, you fucking code.” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"You know, I don't blame you, right?" Gwen asks, wishing she could lace their fingers together.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>"I know." He sighs. "But you have to make that choice for Rhys. Is this forever what he really deserves?"</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>She muses on this for a while before she eventually replies, “A forever. Not this forever.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“So what do you wish to do then?” </span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Gwen stands and takes Ianto’s hand, the sun having completely settled now, darkness falling over this idyllic planet of meadows and babbling brooks. They begin the hike down to where </span>
  <em>
    <span>The Myfanwy </span>
  </em>
  <span>is docked. “I want to bring back Tosh first,” she decides. “Tosh deserves that. She was our family too, just like Rhys was mine. She can help us find a way to make this,” - she gestures to her general self - “better.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>Ianto nods. “That makes sense.” A beat. “If anyone would know how to help, it would be Tosh.” After a moment, he adds quietly, “We could bring back Owen too.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“But it wouldn’t be the same. Owen died, and we’re missing months’ worth of data to reflect who he became.” Her smile is just a tad bittersweet. “Plus, I think Owen would honestly prefer to stay dead.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Perhaps,” Ianto considers, but Gwen knows that he won’t have put the thought of bringing Owen back to rest.</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Ianto Jones,” she tells him, glancing back on the planet one last time, “you’re a remarkable man, the best friend I could have ever asked for.” She nudges him gently, and he laughs. “An eternity could be miserable, but it’s less miserable with you, and Jack, by my side.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“I don’t deserve you, Gwen Cooper.”</span>
</p><p> </p><p>
  <span>“Oh, you do. You most definitely do.”</span>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Find me on tumblr <a></a><a href="http://princess-of-the-worlds.tumblr.com/">here</a> or on Twitter  <a></a><a href="https://twitter.com/rajkumarinik">here</a>. I tweet and reblog mostly Torchwood with occasionally amusing commentary on nonsense. Please come talk to me and tell me if/how much you like my fic or like ask me about it on tumblr; all my schoolwork has become remote now, and I have limited social interaction. And if there's any other fool me once spinoffs you wanna see, feel free to ask in the comments!</p><p>Happy birthday again, Vi! I hope you liked this!</p></blockquote></div></div>
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